


Lycanthropy 101

by nessbess



Series: Werewolves of Chicago [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Insecurity, M/M, Mentions of bestiality, werewolf!Ian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessbess/pseuds/nessbess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is not impressed by how little Ian actually knows about his wolfishness. This, naturally, leads to movies and dry humping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lycanthropy 101

"Are you fuckin' serious?" Mickey demanded, aggressively crowding into Ian's space.

The redhead folded his arms across his chest, rolling his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well that's just too fuckin' bad," Mickey sneered. "You're supposed to be the guy with all the answers. The guy with a _plan_. You really mean to tell me that you've been sitting around with your thumbs halfway up your ass for two fuckin' months and haven't bothered to learn jack shit about being a werewolf? Can't you get some Werewolf 101 or whatever from the fucker who bit you, or did he just fuck off and hope for the best?"

"Since when are you all pro-education?" Ian sneered. "Look, I'm dealing with it, okay?"

"Bullshit, you are. What happened last full moon?"

Ian glared at the wall beyond Mickey's head and Mickey huffed a disbelieving laugh.

"You don't even know, do you?" He snorted. "Hell, you can go all wolfy any time of the month; does the moon even have any effect on you at all?" At Ian's stubborn silence, Mickey growled. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, Ian. What's the point in having a kid-Einstein for a brother if you don't use him when you need to learn shit? I thought you Gallaghers were supposed to be all about singing Kumbaya and sharing feelings and all that shit?"

"Lip's got enough on his plate without adding this to his problems."

"We've all got problems," Mickey shook his head as he reached for his coat. "I've gotta get to work."

~*~

Mickey was sitting on the Gallagher's couch, halfway through his third beer and fully intent on forgetting their earlier argument, when the front door opened and Ian walked in.

"Thought you were working tonight?" Mickey asked, head lolling on the back of the couch as he tracked Ian's journey to the kitchen to hang up his coat. His answer was a shrug and a small pile of movies, flung into his lap. "The fuck is this?" he thumbed through the titles.

"Werewolf 101," Ian answered easily, dropping onto the couch and resting his shoulders in Mickey's lap.

Scoffing, Mickey brandished the movies at Ian. "These all look retarded as fuck. Look at this one. What even is this? _Rise of the Lycans_? What, are you a fuckin' plant now?"

"Those are lichens, Mick," Ian said patiently.

"That's what I fuckin' said." He flashed another movie. "And the fuck is this? _Blood and Chocolate_? Sounds like some shit Mandy'd watch when she's on her fuckin' period. And _Blood Moon_? That's a documentary _about_ Mandy's period. No one wants to see that shit."

 Ian shrugged easily. "Apparently the actual title of that one is _Wolf Girl_. Not sure why the name on the DVD case is different. The reviews said there's close-ups of dick in it, so I figured you'd be interested."

"Hi- _lar_ ious," Mickey deadpanned, but he cracked open the case and fed the thin disc to the DVD player.

~*~

"Kid's a fuckin' pussy," Mickey scoffed as he tipped back another beer. "Little bitch fuckin' sniveling all over the place. He can't even make a fuckin' shot to save his own damn skin."

Ian lounged in Mickey's lap, grinning up at the underside of the older boy's jaw. "I dunno, Mick, he kind of reminded me of you," he said teasingly. "Beating up that other kid for no good reason."

"Fuck off. I don't need three friends behind me to feel like a man. Besides, kid had it comin'."

"Yeah, wandering around and minding his own business, I see what you mean," Ian nodded mildly. "Definitely was asking for a beat-down."

Mickey slapped Ian's chest. "He's the one who wanted to shack up with the weird hairy chick. Fuckin' disgusting, man. He was probably banging the rabbit, too."

"That's twisted," Ian wrinkled his nose.

"Whatever. Leather jacket kid would have banged the rabbit no problem." Mickey's hand twisted into Ian's hair as he smirked. "Rabbit probably wouldn't even have noticed. Thought you said this movie had dick in it, not that puny-ass nub."

"You're such a size-queen," Ian laughed. "Being smaller than three inches doesn't mean that it's not a dick."

"Being that tiny classifies as a clit with balls, man, not a dick."

"I'm sensing a certain amount of bitterness here," Ian smirked teasingly. "Feeling a bit insecure about your package, Mick?"

The playful smirk vanished from Mickey's face as he recalled Terry's and Svetlana's barbed remarks on the size of his dick. It had never been something that he'd thought about growing up - he'd certainly never heard any complaints from Angie or Ian or anyone else he'd fucked before - and he hadn't thought too much of it when his wife or father had commented. It wasn't like he was planning on fucking either of them anyways. But hearing the comment slide so easily from Ian's lips was a harsher blow than he had anticipated and it left him reeling.

"Fuck. You." Mickey ground out. He would have stood and left, had there not been two hundred-odd pounds of werewolf pinning down his legs.

Instantly alert, Ian sat upright, watching Mickey with eyes that were, for once, unreadable. Mickey fidgeted under his scrutiny, glaring at the names scrolling past in the movie credits. "Is this a thing?" Ian asked warily. "Because if it is-"

"Fuck off, I'm not your fuckin' girlfriend and I'm not gonna do some fuckin' feelings prayer-circle shit with you," Mickey interrupted with a snarl.

"That's good, seeing as if you were my girlfriend, I wouldn't be fucking you," Ian said easily. "That's part of the whole gay thing, see? I like dick," he moved to straddle Mickey's lap, "and I like yours." He rolled his hips gently, reminiscent of the dance he'd given Mickey at the White Swallow. Mickey's hands fluttered uncertainly and he rested them on Ian's hips as his pulse quickened and his blood rushed to his groin. "I like the weight of it on my tongue and I like the way it fits in my hand when I'm pounding into your ass. I like how it hits that spot in me when we switch it up." Ian ground down hard, looking content as he sat upon the warm bulge in Mickey's pants, his own cock rubbing against Mickey's stomach through Ian's jeans. "Mostly," he said, panting lightly, "I like the way it's so responsive and the way it's all mine."

Ian leaned down to seize Mickey's lips in a bruising kiss that had him bucking up into Ian's hips with a groan that the younger boy greedily swallowed. Mickey's hands wrapped around Ian's ass, encouraging the redhead to grind down harder as he met him thrust for thrust.

"Don't remember ever saying it was yours," Mickey gasped out as Ian sucked and tongued at his jaw, scratching with only the barest hint of teeth.

He could feel the smile against his jaw. "Finders keepers," Ian said breathily. He moaned as Mickey flipped him into the couch cushions, his thighs wrapping around Mickey's hips and pulling him in even closer. Mickey cursed the clothes that kept him from burrowing into Ian, that separated him from flesh on freckled flesh, but he could feel something wild and dangerous building low in his stomach and he didn't think he would be able to stop moving with Ian if Terry himself walked into the Gallagher's living room.

Something sharp dug into his shoulders and Mickey blinked open eyes he couldn't remember closing. Inches from his nose, Ian stared back at him, his eyes wide and bright blue, staring at him in awe. As if he were something to be cherished and not just some Southside scum with stupid tattoos and bad habits and a below-average dick. As if he were something that could make Ian lose control and wolf-out just from a quick rut. Mickey squeezed his eyes shut and collapsed his head against Ian's shoulder, groaning loudly as he came embarrassingly quickly. Ian followed close behind, a whispered " _Mick_ " upon his lips like a prayer.

They lay together until their breathing was back under control, and then Mickey rolled onto his feet with a teasing smirk. "You're such a fag," he said easily.

"Yeah," Ian laughed. "A fag who likes your dick, in particular."

Mickey rolled his eyes and would never comment on how he felt a weight lift off of his chest at the affirmation. He would never understand how Ian had been able to appease all of his worries with a few whispered words and a quick grind. He followed Ian up the stairs to the room the redhead shared with his two brothers, peeling off his soiled boxers and pulling on a clean pair of Ian's.

Rooting around in the nightstand, he triumphantly fished out a joint and lit up. Mickey took a puff before handing it to Ian, who accepted the joint automatically. Ian paused, frowning down at the joint, before he handed it back to Mickey without taking a hit.

"Don't waste it," he said without meeting Mickey's gaze.

"The fuck you talkin' about?"

Ian sighed, agitatedly punching his open palm three times before he turned to face Mickey. "I can't get high, Mick," he rushed out. "Or drunk."

Mickey regarded him as he took another hit of the joint. "Because of the werewolf thing?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah."

Mickey nodded silently, cogs whirling in his mind. "Okay," he said eventually as he finished the joint and stubbed it out against the windowsill.

The next morning, Mickey made his way down to the public library, ignoring the suspicious glare from the dried up old bint behind the counter as he threw himself into the chair before a computer, pulling a pen and wad of paper out of his coat pocket.

So maybe he hadn't passed a single class in high school, but it wasn't like he'd ever gone to a single class, either. And any joe off the street knew how to use Google.

**Author's Note:**

> Not as happy with this one - I kind of rushed it out so I didn't feel so guilty about neglecting my essays. Hope it's still okay.


End file.
